Unexpected
by Suni-Dlight
Summary: Certainely didn't see that one coming. If you like this, check out the sequel: Playing With Fire!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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Poor, but brilliant.

Parentless, but so brave.

A model student.

That is what anyone would tell you when you asked them about Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr. He was the epitome of perfection and he would make a perfect Head Boy.

These were things that Tom loved to hear them say.

It meant that they were falling for it.

"Tom!"

"Hey Tom! How was your summer?"

"That's Tom Riddle. Isn't he just dreamy?"

A smirk came to his face as he passed those people by, those peons. They were so below him he hardly ever saw them but it was important to try to acknowledge the smaller people; if he didn't his act of perfect, kind, wonderful Head Boy would be positively ruined.

So he waved and responded kindly and smiled for the girls as he moved down the corridor. It was all just an act anyway. One that he had to keep up in front of most but not in front of all.

It wasn't until he reached his normal compartment was he able to drop the façade. Finnigas Avery, Altimus Lestrange, Thornton Mulciber, Oryan Rosier, and Rykier Nott looked up when he entered, closing the door behind him. He couldn't call them friends, not really. They were more his followers if anything. He was in charge here and they all agreed. "Fellows," he greeted.

They all nodded their heads, responding in kind. Rosier smirked as Tom took the seat across from him. "Last year. Big plans to be made, eh?"

"Soon, my friend," Tom said with a devious smile. "The time will come I'm sure when we will rule more than this school."

Little did they know that he had already started his plan. This summer, he had achieved another Horcrux by murdering that disgusting excuse of a father and his pitiful family and the best part, the even more despicable Morfin Gaunt took the blame for it.

He looked now to the ring on his finger. It was beautiful and his, _rightfully_ his. The Heir of Slytherin. It had a nice ring to it.

"This year is bound to be a treat," Lestrange said, grinning happily. "All the Mudbloods are still ever-so distraught by the death of that annoying girl. They'll be so easy to torment."

The rest of the boys laughed excitedly, murmuring ways to somehow shake the Mudbloods up even more than they were now. To them, it would be hilarious. To Tom, it felt as if they could be doing something _more_, like he had done last year, like he had done this past summer.

He looked up at the boys, soon to be men, in his compartment. These would be the first of his followers. He believed them to be the most worthy and the best at what they did and they each understood his cause, what he was fighting for.

"Now who is that?" Tom was yanked from his thoughts by Nott. Looking he saw all of his comrades had pressed themselves towards the window.

"I've never seen her before," Avery said, shaking her. "Check out her – ow!"

"Don't be vulgar," Mulciber interrupted, rubbing his hand where he had struck Avery upside the back of his head.

"How do you know I wasn't going to say her eyes?"

"Because I know you."

"What is going on?" Tom asked.

The boys turned to answer him but they were interrupted by the sliding open of the compartment door. A woman stood there, looking quite indifferent and quite dissatisfied with her position as trolley pusher. "Anything off the cart?"

It was then that Tom found what had been the source of the fascination.

A girl stood at the trolley, looking through the varied sweets. She was very easy on the eyes, Tom could see. Curvy figure pair with a petite stature and long dark brown hair brushed against alabaster skin. When she looked up, feeling Tom's eyes on her, he saw she had bright bluish-gray eyes.

Easy on the eyes indeed.

She handed the woman her coins, taking the cauldron cake in exchange. "_Merci_," she said.

A foreigner. She exchanged glances with Tom once more before going back in the direction of her compartment.

"What about you lugs?" the woman said and they all shook their heads. The woman closed the door, muttering something about a waste of time.

"Did you catch that?" Avery said, truly amazed. "Was that French?"

"She must be a transfer student," Lestrange said. "Probably here to take that dead girls place."

"She's a right sight, isn't she?" Nott agreed. "Wouldn't mind catching up on a French lesson with her sometime."

The boys, except Mulciber and Tom laughed. Tom smirked, however, at their antics. "Patience, fellows," Tom murmured. "We'll see if she's truly worth your attention when the sort her. If she's anything less than a Ravenclaw, she'll be nothing more than another pathetic excuse of a witch."

"How disgusted would you be if she turned up a Gryffindor?" Mulciber asked with a slight smile.

All the boys practically gagged at the suggestion while Tom looked out the window. So wrapped up in some girl. It was pathetic really.

Pointless.

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**A/N: So here's a new one! I hope you guys like it so far. I had to make up the names because, upon looking them up, they had no first names unless they were a 'Junior' and even then (like Avery) they had no name. But according to sources these are the first Death Eaters and were among Tom's gang while he was in school. Again I hope you liked it so far. Thanks a bunch. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Thanks to those who added this story to Alert so far: ****applemints58, DayDreamBabyBee, and Saiyuo12; and to their Favorites: applemints58 and Saiyuo12. And to all those who reviewed! You guys are wonderful :-D**

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"Baudelaire, Marguerite."

The girl, clearly the oldest among the first years even if she wasn't the tallest, walked forward towards Albus Dumbledore and the Shorting Hat.

"So she's indeed French," Mulciber said, resting his chin on his hands.

"Hopefully she's worth something more than just her good looks," Nott replied as Avery crossed his fingers, muttering as if in prayer.

"Please, Slytherin. Please."

Dippet stepped up to the podium as Miss Marguerite Baudelaire approached, clearing his throat. "Miss Baudelaire here is a transfer student from Beauxbatons Academy. I hope you will all welcome her with open arms and treat her as one of the family. Professor Dumbledore."

Dumbledore nodded and the girl took a seat on the stool. He placed the Sorting Hat on her head and it sat there a moment before shouting out 'RAVENCLAW!'

Avery looked slightly downhearted but he perked up. "Well, it is certainly a hell of a lot better than Gryffindor or Hufflepuff."

"If she's in Ravenclaw then she's probably smart enough not to fall with someone like you," Lestrange said and the other boys laughed while Avery slumped down in a glare.

Tom watched Miss Baudelaire slide from the stool and make her way over to the Ravenclaw table. She was indeed very beautiful.

"You know, you could be getting all worked up over nothing," Rosier said, grinning. "She could just be a pretty face. She could have the brains of a rock and be rubbish with a wand. What kind of wife would she make?"

"She doesn't have to be smart to do the job of a wife," Avery responded, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Vulgar," Mulciber said though there was a smirk on his face.

As if she could sense she was being talked about, Miss Marguerite Baudelaire looked in the direction of the Slytherin table. The boys all pretended to do something else but Tom kept her gaze.

Dumb as a rock indeed.

* * *

The next day, Tom was surprised to walk into his N.E.W.T.S level Transfiguration class and find Miss Marguerite Baudelaire sitting in the front row. He nodded at her as he entered (something she almost barely acknowledge, a cause for more surprise), sitting in the seat behind her.

Dumb as a rock?

Not even the rest of his fellows had gotten into this class. The lowest O.W.L, Dumbledore accepted for this glass was an 'E' and the other boys had only gotten 'A's or lower.

About six more students filed in, one from Gryffindor, two more Ravenclaws, and three Hufflepuffs. They must not have known who they were going to be taking the glass with because a scrawny, curly-haired Hufflepuff girl blushed heavily as she walked past him.

Dumbledore came into the classroom and Tom tried to hold back his cringe. He absolutely could not stand this man. He almost wished he didn't need to take this class but he needed all his N.E.W.T.S to make an impression on Dippet. It was only Defense Against the Dark Arts that he really counted on, the only class that really mattered.

"Welcome to your first day of N.E.W.T.S level Transfiguration. I am happy to see you all here." Even as he said this, Dumbledore's eyes passed over Tom. No one else could see it, but Tom could not miss the look of warning in the older man's eyes. He was watching him . . . always.

"Today will just be review of last year mostly," Dumbledore said, leaning back against the desk. "We can't continue forward until we know where you all stand. Can anyone tell me the concept behind Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration?"

Everyone in the classroom raised their hands except Miss Baudelaire, who Dumbledore smiled out. "What about you, Miss Baudelaire?"

Tom looked at the back of the girl's head, wondering, very briefly, if she even spoke English. He was in for a big surprise when she opened her mouth.

"Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration eez zee law of Wizarding physics which states what powers magic 'as to create or destroy matter. Zere are five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law, two of which are food and love. Food may be multiplied once a real food object eez actually en 'and, but cannot be created from nothing. Love cannot be created; eet can only be imitated zrough a Love Potion or zee Imperius Curse, in which case eet resembles an obsessive infatuation."

Her accent was still audible but they all understood what she said and were amazed. Even Dumbledore looked pleasantly surprised. "Very good, Miss Baudelaire. Now, who can tell me about the Inanimatus Conjurus spell?"

Tom briefly acknowledged Dumbledore asking him to answer the question and he did, flawlessly. But mostly, he stared at the back of Miss Baudelaire's head.

So . . . she was brilliant. It was a surprise indeed and something he wasn't generally used to. This wasn't to say that girls weren't smart but there were types of course: Those who were drop dead gorgeous and dumb, those who were average and smart, those who were average and dumb . . . but never before did he believe he had seen someone as beautiful as Miss Baudelaire who was smart. Of course, there may be a few that he didn't know (or care to know) but they had yet to speak up intelligently in front of him, anyways.

But being the beauty that she was and having the brains that she surprisingly possessed sparked something like an interest. Mulciber had heard her name before so he knew she was pureblood; a very powerful French family obviously. She could very possibly come in handy for his bigger plans, he thought.

Before he knew it, the class was over and they had been assigned to study up more on Gamp's Law. Miss Baudelaire left first, Tom following a ways behind. Farther up the hallway, however, the girl was stopped by none other that Avery.

With him in her way, she stopped, leaning against the wall and staring at him with an almost vacant, yet dreamy expression. As Tom got closer, he could hear what Avery was saying and he was speaking in a very slow voice. "Do – you – understand? You – and – I – could – have – a – lot – of – fun – getting – to – know – each – other."

"I understood you perfectly well, _Monsieur_ Avery," she said in her soft voice in almost perfectly clear English, much to Avery's surprise. "I 'ave spent many summers in England. English eez somezing I do understand. 'Owever, I do not understand 'ow you can be such zee pig. I 'ave seen your type before, _Monsieur _Avery. You zink zat you are 'ilarious, but you cannot see zat you annoy zose around you to zee point of sickness. You are foul and – euh, 'ow do you say, _écoeurant_ –?"

"Disgusting," Tom said, with a smirk, earning a glare from Avery.

Miss Baudelaire nodded in his direction. "_Merci_. _Monsieur_ Avery, I 'ave no time for your stupidity or your idea of 'fun'. _Au revoir._"

She pushed past him, leaving Avery standing angry and surprised. "What the bloody hell?"

"It takes a bit of finesse, my fellow," Tom said, following after Miss Baudelaire. He touched her shoulder. When she turned he took her hand, kissing it briefly. "_Mademoiselle _Baudelaire. I do apologize for my friend's rudeness. It must be nerves because you are truly beautiful to behold."

Miss Baudelaire eyed him warily. "You are too kind, _Monsieur –?_"

"Riddle, Tom Riddle," Tom informed her, smiling. "I am the Head Boy here and I wanted to offer you my services, you being a new student and all."

Her eyebrow raised a little. "Understand zis, _Monsieur _Riddle. I am not looking for zee hero nor will I fall for your pitiful excuse to charm me."

Tom stared at her stunned. "Excuse me?"

"I 'ave seen your type before also. I may be zee new student but I am not 'elpless. I do not need your escort nor do I need your protection. I am not interested and I will never be. _Merci_, _Monsieur_ Riddle."

Tom watched her leave, still shocked. He noticed then that everyone was watching him. Avery came up to his side, trying not to laugh. "You win some, you lose some, Tom."

But no.

Tom _never _lost.

And he wasn't about to start now.

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**A/N: I hope you guys liked this :-D That was a fun chapter to write. I hope you'll forgive me if the French accent is a little skewed but I've done the best I could. Besides, she has spent many summers in England. While she still has some traces of an accent, it's only on certain words. Thanks everyone.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: I welcome a new person who has added this story to their Alert: Apsaras Yoma; and their Favorites: licious461. You're great! **

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Tom was confused.

He had not been expected to be turned down, especially not in front of everyone.

Now, when he walked down the hallway, he didn't here 'Hey Tom' or 'That's Tom Riddle, the cutest boy in school', not even close to it.

"Did you hear what she said to him?"

"_Tom Riddle_? _Tom Riddle _got turned away?"

It was utterly embarrassing!

He needed to find _Mademoiselle Baudelaire_ and fix this. He didn't know what she heard or from who or why to make her act like she did yesterday. And what would they have told her? As far as anyone else knew, his reputation was absolutely spotless! He had everything to hide but no one knew that, no one. . . .

It was Tom's free period now so he wandered the hall, wondering if he'd find Miss Baudelaire. It was possible. Most of the seventh years had free periods now.

He found himself outside, the day was sunny and bright . . . and Miss Baudelaire sat against the tree near the lake, reading a book. Tom took a deep breath and put his most charming smile on his face, walking over to her.

"Miss Baudelaire?" he started and tried not to let it faze him that she didn't even look up. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I think we got off on the wrong foot."

"You did," Miss Baudelaire responded. She hadn't phrased it as a question, more as if she were simply stating a fact.

"Well, yes. . . . You see, I was only trying to be kind. I wasn't trying to be a 'hero', as you so put it. And I find myself wondering what I could have possibly done in such a sort time frame to offend you so."

Miss Baudelaire closed her book, looking up at Tom with those bluish-gray eyes of hers. "My roommates 'ave informed me zat I may 'ave been – 'ow do you say, _virulent_ – 'arsh. Zey 'ave also told me you are 'zee most perfect boy in zee entire school' and zat you do not often approach females – zey think zat you are shy – and zat if you are talking to me, eet eez somezing very special."

She stood now, almost in one fluid jester. "I saw you and your friends and I know zat you were discussing me and I'll 'ave you know zat I do not appreciate eet."

"I – apologize." To say he was surprised was in understatement. He hadn't realized that Miss Baudelaire was so . . . observant which could prove troublesome. If she already disliked him now, was it because she could see through his act, and how?

She waved it away. "I am not such a girl zat I will fall for such things as forced charm and glamour, _Monsieur _Riddle, nor am I looking for such a thing especially not from one who 'as been rumored to 'ave broken so many 'earts. I am 'ere to learn and to find a career and zat eez all."

Tom wasn't sure what to do next. This had never happened to him before . . . and before he even had a chance to ask for anything. He was, however, sure now that, as almost insufferable as she was, she would make a good addition to his future plans, whether as one of his followers or standing next to him.

Now all he needed to do was figure out a way to get her to trust him. "Miss Baudelaire, I think we have a misunderstanding. I have no attention of trying to get you to fall for forced charm or glamour. Real charm, however," Tom added, grinning, "now that may be possible. Now, however, I'm just trying to introduce myself to you as Head Boy and you as a new student. Nothing more, nothing less. I am sorry if I have offended you in any way shape or form because I never intended too. Could we, possibly, start over?"

Miss Baudelaire eyed him warily. "Eet eez possible, _oui_."

Tom held out his hand. "My name is Tom Riddle. And you are?"

Hesitantly, Miss Baudelaire took it. "Marguerite Baudelaire."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Tom told her. The bell rang and Tom offered his arm. "May I walk you to class, Marguerite? Oh, my apologies," he added when she gave him a look, "Miss Baudelaire."

"You may walk _with_ me to class," she corrected, fixing her bag strap on her shoulder.

Tom smirked at her back before moving up to walk beside her.

* * *

Tom and the rest of his fellows sat in their corner of the Slytherin common room, his fingers laced and his chin resting on top.

"She is an odd girl, don't you think?" Lestrange said. "Our friend Tom here is one of the most charming fellows in the entire school. Any girl would have been blabbing that they were getting married just because he looked at them."

"Maybe she's just overly cautious," Rosier responded. "It could go both ways: either she's never been approached by anyone before (though I doubt that) or she's been approached so much she's gotten tired of it)."

"Or maybe she's just one of those overly independent birds," Avery said, obviously still upset about the way he was turned down. "One of those who think she's too good for anyone."

"Or perhaps she was just not interested," Mulciber argued, smirking at Avery.

"Either way," Tom spoke up, interrupting the argument that was about to happen, "she's not just some silly girl like we thought she was when we first saw her. She's actually incredibly brilliant –"

"Did you see her in Potions?" Nott asked. "She made a perfect Draught of living Death."

"—and she's almost incredibly observant," Tom continued. "It would completely ruin us if she were to see past the reputation that we've worked so hard to maintain these last seven years."

"So what do you purpose we do?" Mulciber asked.

"I think we should keep a close watch on Miss Marguerite Baudelaire. She could either prove invaluable or dangerous. Agreed?"

"Agreed," the rest said.

It was certainly going to be an interesting year.

**A/N: I hope you guys liked this! Thanks for reading and stay tuned.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Welcome to our new Alerts: Gamble with Desire; and our new Favorites: Linnet Lestrange. You guys are great!**

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"Ah, Miss Baudelaire! May I speak to you before you leave?"

Tom glanced over his shoulder as Miss Baudelaire set her bag down and took a seat. He glanced at Mulciber and Rosier who nodded and continued out the classroom. He instead, diverted and went into the student supply closet.

He and his comrades had taken to watching Miss Baudelaire for the past week and a half. So far, they had discovered that she was taking N.E.W.T. level courses in Herbology, Potions, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts and, obviously, Transfigurations. Tom knew from research that students who took these classes normally went on to try to obtain jobs at St. Mungo's. Nott even saw the girl go into Infirmary where it was assumed that she was helping out Madam Lokston for extra credit.

But she was very good, though she shared all her classes with Tom, at avoiding the group. He didn't know how she did it but he managed to miss her every time he thought he might try to start a conversation.

So now he stored himself away in the supply closet hoping to catch her.

"Miss Baudelaire, you have proven yourself a very exceptional student over this past week," Slughorn was saying.

"_Merci_, Professor Slughorn."

Slughorn chuckled. "You are very welcome. Now, Miss Baudelaire, your father, isn't the illustrious Aimery Baudelaire, Potion's Master extraordinaire is he?"

"Zat he eez."

"Of course, of course! Brilliant man, very brilliant. I've worked with him once or twice over the years."

"Really. 'e 'asn't mentioned you before."

Slughorn laughed again, if not a bit awkwardly. "Well, I assume he's a very busy man. Well, either way, I was hoping to ask you to join me and some other students for a little gathering, tomorrow evening."

"A gathering, sir?"

"Yes, yes. Just a couple of choice students and we gather a few times for dinner and discussion and I would love if you would join us."

"Euh – I will join you and zee others, Professor Slughorn."

"Wonderful! – Oh, Tom! What on earth are you doing here?"

Tom stopped as if he had been caught. He smiled at the professor. "Sorry sir. I came back when I realized I needed some cauldron cleaner is all. I didn't mean to interrupt your meeting."

"No interruptions, here, Tom! I was just telling Miss Baudelaire here about our little club. She'll be joining us tomorrow night at our welcome back feast."

"That's nice." Tom smiled at Miss Baudelaire who was watching him warily. "Professor, lunch has started so –"

Slughorn made his excuses and ushered the both of them out, smiling secretively at the two of them; Tom could only assume what he was thinking was going on between the two of them. Because it was fairly expected, however, Tom walked beside Miss Baudelaire, pleased with the predictability of his Potion's professor.

"You'll find Professor Slughorn is known for this," Tom said.

"Known for what, exactly?" Miss Baudelaire asked as they made their way down the hallway.

"'Collecting' his students," Tom explained. "He has these pictures of all these famous students he's had or students that he thought would soon be famous. It's his Slug Club and we are his prizes. Not only is your father the Aimery Baudelaire but you have the potential to become a great – well a great something or other, and so he's making you a part of his collection."

Miss Baudelaire frowned. "Zat eez at zee same time flattering and creepy."

Tom chuckled. "It is but you can't blame him for wanting to make a move up in the world through the people he knows. As long as he has famous students, there's always someone to brag about. Plus, you get free food from the parties he throws."

The two of them reached the Great Hall, the chatter loud and rambunctious. Tom saw his fellows watching the two of them though they looked away at a glance from him.

"_Merci_, _Monsieur _Riddle," Miss Baudelaire said, surprisingly. When he raised in eyebrow at her, she explained. "For informing me and walking me to zee Great 'all. I suppose I will see you at zee, 'ow did you say, 'Slug Club'."

"I will see you then, Miss Baudelaire." As he meant to make towards his table, he heard her mutter something. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said I intend to be a great 'ealer at St. Mungo's, in zee area of Spell Damage."

Tom smiled at her. "That is admirable."

She nodded, looking slightly confused with herself before making her way to her own table. Tom headed to his own table, the smile on his face turning into a smirk.

Miss Marguerite Baudelaire must not yet realize it but her tough outward exterior was slowly but surely melting away. Little by little he would pick his way through it until she trusted him and he eventually won her over to her cause.

It wouldn't be long now.

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**A/n: So I know it's horribly short. I hope you guys liked it though and I'll see you next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Welcome to Favorite Story newcomers: Saiyuo12 and emp69. I know you've been here a while but my computer is acting funny :-D You're great!**

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Tom walked into Slughorn's quarters, not surprised to see a few others already there. Helena Roliton of Hufflepuff, her father being a famous Quidditch player, sat in the corner looking rather bored; Landel Ausworth, an outstanding student according to Slughorn and Austin Rovel, the son of a well known Herbologist were talking in the corner, cups of punch in their hands; and Marguerite Baudelaire was with Slughorn now as he showed her all these pictures he had on his shelf. She had a smile on her face but Tom could see that it was strained.

Smiling he walked over to the two. "Professor Slughorn."

"Ah, Tom!" Slughorn beckoned him closer. "I was just showing Miss Baudelaire here some old photos, trifle little things really but they are indeed a treasure to me."

Tom was so sure. "Would you mind if I stole Miss Baudelaire away from you for a bit? I would love to treat her to some punch."

"Oh! Not at all, not at all! You two have fun! That's what tonight is all about! We're just waiting for a couple of others, so you go enjoy."

Tom offered Miss Baudelaire his arm which she took quickly, to his surprise. He led her over to the food table, pouring her a cup of punch. "_Merci_," she said softly, taking a sip.

"Slughorn can be a bit overwhelming when he wishes to be," Tom whispered. Miss Baudelaire again surprised him by smiling.

" "E is a – interesting man," she said, looking over her shoulder as Slughorn had now caught Helena in his explanation.

Tom smiled. "I'm glad to see you here tonight, Miss Baudelaire."

Miss Baudelaire looked up at him. "I told you zat I would be 'ere."

"Yes well, I wasn't exactly sure. You did, after all, say that you were here to learn and get a career and nothing else."

"I just figured one – 'ow do you say, _périscolaire_ – ah, extracurricular activity would not 'urt. Besides, you 'ad me . . . intrigued."

"Was it the club that intrigued you or was it me?"

Miss Baudelaire laughed. "Do not push your luck, _Monsieur _Riddle."

Tom grinned. Looking up he saw that Rosier, whose parents worked in the Ministry of Magic, and two slightly random Ravenclaws (Tom was sure their parents were famous were something that only Slughorn knew about). Of course, Tom couldn't forget the school know-it-all Minerva McGonagall, Head Girl. It was quite obvious why Slughorn would invite her here. She glanced in his direction before quickly looking away. She was one of the few who didn't believe that Rubeus Hagrid had anything to do with last year's horrors and thought the turnout of events was odd. For that, she kept her distance from Tom who was glad of it. He didn't need the witch watching his every move especially since she shared most classes with him also (she hadn't been in the first Transfiguration's class because she had some Head Girl duties to attend to).

"Looks like everyone's!" Slughorn called out. "Come, come, everyone to the table."

Tom moved forward first, pulling out a seat for Miss Baudelaire. She eyed him warily before taking a seat. McGonagall sat down on the other side of the French woman.

"Well now!" Slughorn said. "Look at this wonderful gathering. How about we go around and become reacquainted?"

No one spoke up at first but then Landel sighed. "My name is Landel Ausworth and I am a sixth-year Gryffindor."

"Austin Rovel and I am also a sixth-year Gryffindor," his friend said.

Helena Roliton sighed. For a Hufflepuff, she wasn't very cheery. "Helena Roliton and I am a fourth-year Hufflepuff."

They continued around the table, introducing themselves. The two Ravenclaws who walked in earlier were fourth year and a sixth year, which would explain how random they were. Finally they came around to Miss Baudelaire. "My name is Marguerite Baudelaire and I am a transfer student and a seventh year Ravenclaw."

"Yes, Miss Baudelaire here is the daughter of Aimery Baudelaire, a very well known Potions Master. My dear, would you mind if we were treated to how you became a student here at fine Hogwarts?"

"My father travels a lot for new ingredients for potions," Miss Baudelaire answered. "I 'ave always wanted to see 'ogwarts. Zis year, 'e brought me with 'im."

"Well we are indeed happy to have you here! Now, everyone enjoy the food and feel free to chat!"

Everyone begin to grab food from the middle of the table. Tom turned to speak with Miss Baudelaire but she had been distracted by McGonagall.

Tom looked across the table at the young sixth-year Ravenclaw who was staring at him. She blushed when he looked but he smiled at her. What had her name been again? Ah, that's right.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Samantha."

* * *

"Dueling club."

Tom looked over at Lestrange who was reading the sign on the bulletin board. "Excuse me?"

"A Dueling club," Lestrange repeated walking over to take his seat again. "Slughorn and Olival are starting it."

"Sounds promising, I suppose," Rosier said. "When does it start?"

"Tomorrow after dinner. Talk about last minute planning."

Tom nodded, glancing at the grandfather clock. "Maybe we'll see what it's about. Tonight, however, I'm retiring. Good night, fellows."

The rest responded in kind as Tom made his way out of the Slytherin House. He hoped that the Head's Common Room was quiet. He was actually really exhausted for once.

Of course, his wish was not granted when he walked in and found two giggling girls sitting in the red and green common room: Minerva and Marguerite.

Ever since Slughorn's dinner a week and a half ago, the two had been seemingly connected at the hip. They shared a lot of the same interests, he had overhead, though McGonagall planned on being a teacher at this very school. His plans would be even harder to carry out of the two of them were co-workers.

Miss Baudelaire looked up as the Portrait hole closed. " 'Ello Tom."

He nodded. "Miss Baudelaire. Are you well?"

"Of course. And you?"

"As well as can be expected, thank you." Tom nodded at Minerva who was watching him. "Minerva."

"Tom."

Smiling at both the girls he headed up the stairs to his door . . . opening and closing it before sneaking halfway back down.

"You seem – 'ow do you say – weary of _Monsieur _Riddle," Miss Baudelaire was saying. "Is 'e not a good 'ead boy?"

"Don't get me wrong," Minerva told her. "He's very brilliant but – I don't know. Something about him worries me a little."

" 'ow so?"

"Well . . . there was an incident – Who am I kidding? – there was a disaster last year. Muggleborn students were being attacked by – by something. It petrified them – oh, er, froze them – and one poor thing, Myrtle, she was killed. She's the ghost in the girl's bathroom if you ever spot her but not many people go in there anymore."

"Zat is 'orrible! What 'appened to everyone?"

"Well, Riddle somehow found out that it was Rubeus Hagrid."

" 'Agrid zee gameskeeper? But 'e was such zee sweet boy!"

"He's very kind, that Hagrid and he was a third year last year when Riddle accused him of harboring the creature that hurt everyone. I'll admit, Hagrid was a little, well, eccentric when it came to animals. He adored his Care of Magical Creatures class and he was large enough to handle any animal, practically, and it wasn't impossible to think that he might be caring for some dangerous creature, but it was still absurd of Riddle to accuse him of raising werewolf cubs under his bed. Either way, Hagrid was expelled but Dumbledore managed to get him that position. Poor thing is all alone really."

"But Minerva, even if 'Agrid didn't mean for all zose people to get 'urt, eez eet possible zat 'is creature was 'urting zem. Eez eet not a good zing zat Riddle managed to stop zee crisis?"

"Of course. It just seemed odd is all. I know he seems like the perfect guy he just – he just makes me very wary. And it would seem he's taking a great interest in you."

"Somezing zat 'as not gone unnoticed, I assure you, but I 'ave no intention of letting any closer zan 'e is at zee moment. Especially, not with your concern so great."

Tom had heard enough and he snuck quietly up to his room closing the door. Pulling out his wand he blasted his pillow apart.

Damn that McGonagall! She was going to make this ten times harder for him.

No matter, he thought, cleaning up the mess. He took a deep breath, sitting down on his bed. He'd fix this mess.

He smiled to himself.

He was Tom Riddle after all.

He could get himself out of anything.

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**A/N: Hope you guys liked this chapter! Talk to you later!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Just want to say hello to new Favorite/Alert Author and Story member: the deathchandelier. You are awesome! On to the show!**

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Tom stood near the back of a large group of students with his comrades in the Great Hall, which had been cleared of all tables and benches to only leave a small stage. He knew a lot of people had been excited for the so called 'Dueling Club' but this was practically ridiculous. He had shared classes with at least half of these people and had seen them all use their wands and they weren't the least bit impressive. What use could they be in a Dueling Club.

"This is proving to be rather pointless," Nott said, eying the people here. "How can you have a 'Dueling Club' with so many people? We can't all just fight each other."

"Perhaps there will be a process of elimination?" Rosier suggested. "Maybe we'll have to duel a master teacher or something and they'll decided who stays."

"At least the views not bad," Avery muttered with a smirk on his face.

The rest looked in the direction he was facing. Indeed Miss Baudelaire and McGonagall stood but not more than fifteen feet away from them, laughing at something Elliot Lockston, a seventh year Gryffindor friend of McGonagall's had said.

"Hopefully you're not talking about McGonagall," Mulciber said, grinning.

"Of course not, you twit!"

Before the two hadn't a chance to argue further, Slughorn and Professor Donovan Olival, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, stepped up on stage. Funny that the main professor who used the most of the wand work in his classroom didn't appear to be at all excited for this.

"Welcome students!" Slughorn called out. "You are all here today because you show some interest in the art of Dueling! Professor Olival and I are here to give you the basics and encourage House cooperation!"

Avery snorted. "As if."

"It is important, however, to note that what we show you is usually how a competition Duel will take place," Slughorn continued.

"Don't expect your opponent to bow to you if their aiming to kill you," Olival interrupted, earning a quick glance from Slughorn and a murmur amongst the crowd.

Olival had always been an odd one, Tom had thought, but not in a way that made Tom dislike him. He actually preferred this teacher over the others. He didn't sugarcoat a thing (obviously) and what he taught was useful, even if it was to protect against the Dark Arts. It gave enough insight into the Dark Arts to spark Tom's interest and research. He wondered often if Olival didn't dabble in the Dark Arts the way he acted.

"Well, let's continue on, shall we?" Slughorn said. "When you are partnered up, you will face your partner, like so, and you will bow, like so, and then you will step into a dueling position, like so. We will practice at first with a simple disarming spell. Now, to partners!"

It almost seemed to perfect that Tom's partner ended up be Miss Baudelaire. "I figure you can show her the ropes, eh, Tom?" Slughorn stage-whispered, winking.

"Of course Professor Slughorn," Tom said, smiling politely.

He turned back just in time to see Miss Baudelaire roll her eyes. "Tell me, _Monsieur _Riddle, do you believe me an easy opponent?"

Tom smirked. "I believe that you are very competent, Miss Baudelaire. However, though not an expert duelist, I am pretty good."

"And pretty modest."

"Alright everyone!" Slughorn called over everyone. "If you aren't already facing your partner, do so now! Now bow!"

Tom and Miss Baudelaire did so, the girl's eyes on him the whole time, even as her hair dipped into her face.

"Good! Now into your dueling positions!"

Miss Baudelaire raised her wand hand above her head as she stepped back with her right leg, her other arm stretched out in front of her. Tom stepped back with his left, wand extended in front of him.

"On the count of three, try and disarm your opponent! One – two – three!"

"_Expelli –"_ Tom started but then his wand was flying out of his hand and into Miss Baudelaire's who was smirking.

_Nonverbal magic?_!

Tom was at the same time shocked and furious. Of course, he knew nonverbal magic as well but he had chosen not to use it, not to exhibit his true power to anyone else.

Miss Baudelaire tossed Tom's wand back and he caught it, glaring at her. She smiled innocently which just made him all the more infuriated.

"Very good!" Slughorn, who had to retrieve his own wand, called. "Let's all try that again now."

Partners across the Great Hall bowed to each other, stepping back into Dueling Positions. "Can you keep up zis time, _Monsieur _Riddle?"

"I intend to," Tom muttered, dangerously. He was really starting to not like this Miss Baudelaire.

"One – two – three!"

"_Tarantallegra!_" Miss Baudelaire called just before Slughorn finished saying three.

"_Protego_!" Tom blocked the spell just in time, straightening. "_Furnunculus!"_

Miss Baudelaire jumped out of the way, turning quickly to levitate a young girl out of the way. The spell blasted against a wall. She looked back to Tom shocked. If that had hit she would have been covered in angry boils. "Resorting to 'exes now, Riddle?"

Tom smirked. "Nothing more than a friendly competition, Baudelaire."

The girl bristled. "Fine zen. _Impedimenta_!"

Tom through his arms up in front of his face as he skidded backwards, stumbling slightly. "_Diffindo_!"

The hex cut through the side of Baudelaire's shirt and she gasped indignantly. "_Levicorpus!"_

Tom felt himself starting to rise. . . . "_Liberacorpus!"_ he called to set himself back down again. "_Densaugeo_!"

Baudelaire was hit in the mouth, her teeth beginning to grow. "_Finite!_" she called, stopping the hex. "_Flagrate_!"

Tom tried to dodge right but the spell scrapped his arm, leaving an angry welt in its place. He looked at her, shocked to realize that the sharp-tongue girl he had first met was also well versed in her hexes and jinxes.

For the first time since he had met her, Tom tried to use his Legilimency to look into Baudelaire's mind. . . .

And was successfully pushed out.

What?

Getting over his shock real quick, he called out, "_Locomotor Mortis!_"

Baudelaire cried out as her legs locked but as she was falling backwards she screamed, "_Bombarda!_"

"_Protego!_" Tom cried but he was still blasted backwards, skidding on his back across the floor.

He grabbed his wand just as Baudelaire cancelled the spell on her legs, jumping to her feet. She moved to him and he towards her, ending with their wands pointing at each other's necks, both breathing hard.

"That'll be enough from you two." The looked to see Olival standing next to them, his wand out just in case.

Tom hadn't realized but they had gathered quite the audience. Slughorn was laughing and doing crowd control now ("Just two of our best students showing off their amazing prowess. Nothing more than friendly competition!").

"Calm down," Olival muttered. "Now. Do it now before you cause a bigger scene."

Once again, Tom tried to push his way into Baudelaire's head but was pushed out again, though not with out struggle. Tom lifted his wand first, holding it vertically besides his head, smiling tensely. Baudelaire followed suit, but she wasn't smiling.

"Bow," Olival said.

They did so, still watching each other. Around them the crowd clapped and cheered. Tom wasn't sure how many of them realized that those were potentially dangerous jinxes and hexes He knew Olival did and so had Slughorn. The latter was laughing and joking as if this had been all apart of his brilliant plan. Olival, meanwhile, was healing Tom's shoulder and checking them both over for blood. "Be more careful next time, eh?" he told them before he walked away.

Baudelaire was still glaring at Tom. He chuckled though this didn't reach his eyes. "Just a bit of friendly competition, Miss Baudelaire."

She poked him hard in the chest. "Don't come near me ever again, Riddle. I do not wish to speak with you anymore and you will not speak with me. And most importantly: Stay out of my 'ead."

McGonagall appeared suddenly by Baudelaire's side with Lockston, grabbing her hand. "Are you alright? That was absolutely horrific!"

Baudelaire nodded, dragging Lockston and McGonagall, who sent a glare in Tom's direction, away. Tom's fellows appeared at his side.

"Well, that was intense," Avery muttered, earning him a nudge in the ribs from Nott.

Tom, however, was ignoring him. He was appalled with his own behavior because he had come so close to letting his true nature slip out. And to top it all off, Miss Baudelaire certainly didn't trust him now. How the bloody hell was he supposed to know that she was versed in Occumenlcy as well? She may have been weak the second time around but she still managed it. Her ferocity in that duel was simply superb.

"She was pretty, er, amazing, Tom," Lestrange said.

Tom nodded. "Indeed she was. She was particularly ruthless with those last two hexes."

"Do you think she could still be useful?" Mulciber asked as they moved out of the Great Hall.

"Of course," Tom replied. "It's all a matter of getting her to trust me."

Rosier frowned. "Don't you think that it will be difficult? You hexed her at least six times in ten minute."

Tom chuckled, a smirk coming to his face. "My fellows, life is like a game of chess. You move pieces and sometimes you lose them. Miss Baudelaire and I are simply involved in a game of chess. Right now, she's knocked one of my pawns off the board, but a pawn is simply a distraction and I have the advantage. Not only is she a new student at this school but I've been playing this game longer. It's all about moving the right pieces at the right time."

"So what is your next move?" Rosier asked.

"Though Miss Baudelaire is different from others, she is still a girl. If I show that I am no longer interested in her, it'll twist her up."

"And if it doesn't –?"

"It will. All it takes is patience and a willing pawn."

"Tom!" The group turned as Samantha from the Slug Club came running up to him. She froze, breaking out into the grin. "Hi."

"Hello Miss Samantha," Tom said with a smile. "How are you fairing today?"

"Alright I – Were you hurt at all? That Baudelaire girl always made me feel very wary and I – I just wanted to see if you alright."

If possible Tom's smile widened. "It's very kind of you to ask, Miss Samantha."

"You can – you can just call me Samantha." She wasn't gorgeous like Miss Baudelaire. But she was pretty with her brown hair hung straight, bangs cut in front of blue eyes, and her slim figure.

She was efficient.

"Will you walk with me then, Samantha?" he asked.

Samantha nodded and he offered her his arm which she took eagerly. Looking over his shoulder he smirked at his friends, who were grinning.

Pawn to F-6.

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**A/N: Whoa! That got intense! I hope you guys liked it. I found the spells on the Harry Wiki. Um, let's see: **_Tarantallegra_, **causes the person's legs to dance uncontrollably; **_Diffindo__**,**_** is obviously used to tear things like Harry did Cedric's bag in the fourth book/movie; and I think those are the only spells I didn't completely explain during the duel. I'll be gone for a week but I'll see you all when I come back. Thanks! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: I'm back! Thanks to those who added this story to their Favorites: littlepix alice cullen. You are great! **

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Almost three weeks after their duel and Tom hadn't heard nary a peep from Miss Baudelaire. She avoided him, ignored him when she couldn't avoid him because of classes, and cast evil glares in his direction when she couldn't ignore him, like when Slughorn continually paired them up in potions.

But in Tom's opinion, it only meant progress.

The fact that she paid him enough attention to either avoid, ignore, or glare at him meant that he was getting to her. It may not have been obvious to those who only could convey hatred in her glare but to him it was incredibly blatant.

He also couldn't ignore the fact that she had noticed his new 'girlfriend'.

Samantha was almost always around him. She sat at the Slytherin Table at meals, he walked her to class, and he often heard other students talking about what a cute couple the two of them made. . . . Of course, she wasn't a girlfriend at all, Tom and his fellows knew. She was more of a tool, a way to intrigue Miss Baudelaire.

And obviously it was working.

Samantha clung to his arm as they walked through Hogsmeade, talking at a mile a minute about something that Tom didn't have nearly enough interest in. He nodded, chuckled and smiled in all the right places though, just to keep up the appearance. From the outside looking in, they looked like the perfect couple.

"Oh Tom, this is lovely," Samantha was saying. "I just adore, Hogsmeade. How about you?"

"It's very quaint," Tom muttered.

"It is. Wouldn't it be nice to buy a little house here? You wouldn't be very far from the school considering you want to teach there and we could – oh."

Tom looked up in the direction Samantha was looking in. Sitting in the window of the Three Broomsticks were McGonagall, Lockston, and Miss Baudelaire. Lockston said something and the two girls laughed, enjoying their time. It was obvious, however, that most of Lockston's attention was directed towards Miss Baudelaire. If McGonagall noticed, she didn't seem to mind.

Tom made a show of swinging Samantha out, their hands still connected. She giggled loudly but it was the movement that caught their attention. When Tom glanced into the bar, Miss Baudelaire was watching them with something he couldn't quite describe.

He smirked at her and pulled Samantha out of view.

* * *

"Could you pass the lace wings, please?" Tom asked Miss Baudelaire in Potions.

She did so, casting a glance in his direction that he pretended not to notice. She looked down, cutting up the ingredient that she held. "Samantha is a very nice girl."

The accent in her voice was fading slightly, he noticed briefly before he responded. "That she is."

"She is also very sensitive."

This time, he heard the difference in her voice and frowned. "What are you?"

Miss Baudelaire turned to him fully. "I do not understand your need to torment zee girl."

"Torment? Miss Baudelaire, I have not intention of 'torment' Samantha. She is my girlfriend. Perhaps – perhaps you are just jealous because my attention is no longer turned in your direction."

She stared at him for a moment, with wide, shocked eyes and Tom tried to hide a smirk. . . . But then she laughed.

The class looked over, surprised at the loud noise. It wasn't that her laugh was annoying. It actually had a sparkle to it and was very attractive. But, she was so full of mirth at the moment. It was Tom's turn to stare at her in shock.

The bell rung and Miss Baudelaire grabbed up her bag, walking out the door, still laughing. Tom frowned, grabbing his things to rush after her, up the stairs. "Excuse me, but –"

Miss Baudelaire chuckled, wiping tears from her eyes. "You know, _Monsieur _Riddle, I figured you for a lot of things. Conniving, manipulative, strange – but never once 'ad I considered you a comedian! 'Jealous'. If zat is not zee funniest thing I 'ave ever 'eard, I do not know what is."

Tom, glaring at her back, followed her around the corner to a nearly empty hallway where she stopped, turning and he was surprised by the full intensity of her smile, even if she was laughing at him. "I don't understand you, Miss Baudelaire. I don't understand you at all."

It was a hard thing for him to admit. He was so good at reading people but Miss Baudelaire was proving a very hard book to pry open.

The girl suddenly turned very serious. "Are you sure zat you are supposed too?"

For a moment, Tom considered telling her yes. He was supposed to be able to understand everything, especially if he meant to have her on his side in the very near future. "What would it take for me to get you to consider me?"

"Consider you?" Miss Baudelaire shook her hair out of her bluish-gray eyes. "_Monsieur _Riddle, you 'ave done nothing but dig at me since I've arrived at zis school. I do not feel I can trust you, let alone 'consider' you for anything. Besides, what would your girlfriend think?"

With a smirk that could rival his own and another flip of her hair, she strutted down the hallway, swaying in almost a seductive way. Tom watched her leave with a sneer before hitting the side of the wall with his fist.

How annoying and troublesome could one girl become?

Maybe if he told her what she could receive, what she could have by being on side, _by _his side. . . .

No.

That would wait.

For now, he needed her to want _him_ in order to ensure that she would stay.

"Tom?" Tom turned to find Samantha standing at the end of the corridor. She smiled at him. "I was looking for you."

Tom erased any fury he had been feeling and smiled. "Well, you found me."

The sixth year girl held out her hand to him and he took it, putting his other hand in his pocket.

When they saw Miss Baudelaire again that day, Tom grabbed Samantha and kissed her in full on view of everyone else, much to the both girl's surprise. When they broke apart, Samantha was in a daze and Miss Baudelaire was frowning.

Tom smiled in her direction.

He'd fix this.

By the end of the year, Miss Marguerite Baudelaire would be begging for him.

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**A/N: Hey hope you guys liked this. I was thinking myself to day that this story may not be as long as I thought it was going to be. But think of it as a prologue (and you'll see why). Thanks everyone!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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The chattering was almost unbearable.

Girls everywhere were ecstatic about what was planning to be the best Halloween party even though it was still weeks away.

"Bloody hell," Avery muttered, angrily one morning when two girls squealed about their costumes next to him. "I really can't take much more of this."

"You better be ready to deal with it," Mulciber commented. "It would be utterly shameful of you to show up without a date."

"I have one girl in mind," the other boy said, eyeing the Ravenclaw table.

Nott shook his head. "She's not going to go with you. She doesn't like you, remember? 'You sicken her'."

Avery scoffed. "She was just playing hard to get I'm sure."

"You're in denial!" Lestrange said with a grin.

Rosier laughed. "Better off finding some desperate bird to go with you now. All the good ones are probably already taken."

"Ha ha." Avery sulked, crossing his arms.

Tom smirked at their antics. Of course, his date was already set in stone. Samantha had already planned their costumes. How annoying.

"Fellows," he said, interrupting their conversation. "Let's take a walk."

The boys nodded and they all stood. Tom glanced in the direction of the Ravenclaw table and saw Miss Baudelaire's eyes on him. Despite her claims, he was sure that she found something interesting about him. If only he could figure out what that was and exploit it.

They walked outside, Lunch far from over so there weren't many people outside. Tom walked ahead of the group hands in his pockets.

"Fellows," he began, looking up at the sun. "Miss Baudelaire is proving harder to convince than I previously thought. She still does not trust me. I need suggestions."

"You could give her a love potion," Avery suggested, earning a glare that could kill from Tom. There would be no use of a love potion here. He would stoop to things like that. If this task was to be accomplished, it had to be real, at least on her part.

"You still pay her a lot of attention," Rosier offered. "Despite the fact that you're dating Samantha. Maybe the best option is to ignore her completely."

Tom nodded, stroking his chin. "Possibly. But then what will I do with Samantha once I have Miss Baudelaire's affection?"

"Dump her, of course," Nott said simply.

"I can't dump her for another girl," Tom explained. "It wouldn't make me look good."

"Then you need to have probable cause for dumping her," Lestrange supplied. "She'll have to have done something that will make her look horrible and that'll make you look like an innocent victim."

"Very good, Lestrange." Tom smirked. "Now we can set a plan in motion."

* * *

From that moment forth, Tom barely gave Miss Baudelaire the time of day not when she spent time in the Heads' Common Room or even in Potions class as partners. When it was necessary to talk, he was utterly and ridiculously polite. If it caused her any discomfort, she didn't mention it, but he occasionally caught the confused glances she sent in his direction.

She had told him that she would never consider him but maybe that had been her way of playing 'hard to get'. Too bad he had 'given up' on her. He wondered, constantly, what she was thinking however. He wondered if he was bugging her, if she wanted his attention.

Later that evening, he sat in his Common Room one evening doing homework, McGonagall and Miss Baudelaire on the other side of the room, talking about the Halloween party.

"I think I would like to go as Marie Antoinette," McGonagall said and she giggled. "She was sophisticated and beautiful and I found the perfect dress. Who do you want to go as?"

"Rowena Ravenclaw," Miss Baudelaire replied, much to Tom's surprise. "I've been doing my research on 'er and zee school and I absolutely would love to go as 'er to zee dance."

"I think that's a good choice Marguerite."

Tom gathered his things, standing. "Good night ladies," he said, making his way up stairs. Once again, he opened the door to his room, closing it before sneaking halfway down.

"But I thought you wanted him to leave you alone?" McGonagall was asking.

"I did, I just – it's as if he's purposefully doing this."

"Maybe but maybe not. Maybe he's truly interested in Samantha. Maybe he truly has given up on pursuing you. There doesn't have to be an ulterior motive. I wouldn't recommend you go back on your word either. It would appear hypocritical on your part. But it may all be for the best, the way he attacked you at the Dueling Club."

"I know. But I truly do worry about Samantha. Zee poor girl is fragile at best and she completely adores Riddle. I would just 'ate to see her 'eart broken."

"You're always so concerned about others," McGonagall said and the two girls giggled. "But are you sure there's no ulterior motive on your part? Could it be that you actually are jealous?"

There was a significant pause in which Tom had to resist the urge not to sneak further down the stairs. Finally, the other girl spoke.

"I'll admit that Riddle is good-looking, charming, and brilliant. I'll even admit that I had become adjusted to Tom's consistent pestering. It 'ad become almost routine. 'Owever, aside from all of zat, 'e is arrogant. 'e proved to me during that duel zat zere is a fierceness in 'im that is not completely safe. I worry for Samantha when zee time may come zat zee fierceness comes out against her."

"Are you saying he scares you?"

Another pause. "'e confuses me. I usually understand people very well but 'e – Riddle is an enigma."

Tom nodded, sneaking back up the stairs.

She didn't trust him. He confused her and she didn't like not being able to understand him. However, she saw him more clearly than most other people were able to and that worried him.

He hadn't much time to get her on her side.

His plan for the ball needed to work out just perfectly or else, he may have to resort to more drastic measures.

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**A/N: Whoo drama. Next chapter should be the dance. See yall later!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Welcome to new story Alert readers: Dreamer.1792, kankananime123, , and tibys; and favorite story members: BANDN3RD and kankananime123. You're great!**

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Tom was bored.

That wasn't to say the ball wasn't extravagant (the professors had done a very nice job) and most people's costumes were nice but – something was missing.

Tom's fellows were off dancing with the girls they had managed to scavenge up . . . not that it was hard. The Slytherin House girls refused to go with someone who wasn't a Slytherin. These girls were certainly mad that Tom wasn't available for that evening.

As it was, he twirled now on the dance floor with Samantha, dressed in these ridiculous masquerade outfits. Samantha's outfit was green (she had done it for him, she said) and was large and overbearing and her mask ridiculous. He was glad his outfit held more class, though not much. The mask he wore was plainly white, covering one side of his face and his outfit was more of a tuxedo than anything else, for which he was glad even if it was green.

"This is gorgeous isn't it?" Samantha asked, putting her head on Tom's shoulder. "And so very romantic."

"Indeed," Tom muttered, glancing around the large Hall.

Standing towards the far wall was McGonagall and Lockston, chatting away. True to what she said, McGonagall was dressed to the nines as what could only be conceived as Marie Antoinette. If she wasn't so insufferable, he'd actually say she looked nice. If he had to make any guess, he'd say Lockston was trying to assume the identity of Godric Gryffindor, no doubt to impress Miss Baudelaire who hadn't shown up yet.

Samantha's friends appeared and she excused herself to go talk with them. Tom looked up at Lestrange, who nodded, moving past. A small smirk came to his face.

It wouldn't be long now.

Avery spun past, twirling some sixth year Slytherin whose name Tom had forgotten. "Check out the door," he muttered.

Tom turned, looking to the Entrance, pleasantly pleased at what he found.

Miss Baudelaire stood there, looking as if she weren't so sure what to do now that she was here. She was wearing a shimmering black gown that trailed out behind her and the sleeves long and flowing and a midnight blue cloak that attached to her middle fingers, blue swirls embroidering almost every part of the gown. Her hair hung down to her shoulders, a mass of brown curls and on top of her head sat what must have been a mock of Ravenclaw's lost diadem.

She was gorgeous.

A smile lit up her face and she rushed in the direction of McGonagall and Lockston, who was aglow at the sight of her. The three of them stood in the corner chatting until a seventh year Ravenclaw approached McGonagall, escorting the blushing Marie Antoinette out to the dance floor. That left Lockston and Miss Baudelaire who smiled at each other before moving out onto the dance floor also, Lockston happily placing his hand on her waist. Hard to admit but they made a handsome couple.

He wouldn't be there too long, Tom was sure.

He went to go get some punch, stopping along the way to greet people and to speak. When he was finished with his drink, he was ready, making his way back through all those people until he reached Lockston and Miss Baudelaire.

"Excuse me," he said over the music. The couple looked up at him, surprised. "May I cut in?"

Lockston smiled. Most people didn't have a problem with Tom; even the Gryffindors liked him despite the fact that he was a Slytherin. "I have no qualms," Lockston said, looking to Miss Baudelaire.

She looked away from her dance partner to Tom, the suspicion in her eyes very clear. It was also obvious though that she didn't want to cause a scene so when Lockston passed her hand to Tom's. The Slytherin smiled at the both of them, leading Miss Baudelaire away.

He spun her so that she faced him, raising her hand to his shoulder and placing his hand on her waist, the soft feel of the fabric of her dress under his fingertips. Taking her free hand in his they turned together, Tom leading, of course.

"Might I say you make a beautiful Rowena Ravenclaw," Tom said, breaking the silence between them. "She would have been flattered to know you were to come as her today, I'm sure. . . . You're being awfully quiet," he added.

"Hmm," the girl replied, still gazing up at him. "I am trying to figure out if I am being – 'ow do you say – 'ad."

"Had?" Tom chuckled. "What on earth would give you that impression, Miss Baudelaire?"

"You 'aven't said a word to me in zee past couple of weeks and now you approach me as if zat never 'appened."

"I apologize." Tom tried to make himself look and sound very sincere. "I have been otherwise preoccupied. But," now he sounded confused, "I thought that was what you wanted."

For the first time since he had met her, Miss Baudelaire looked unsure of herself. And, even more surprising, she appeared flustered. "I, ah – I'm not exactly sure what it eez zat I wanted."

Tom smiled softly at her. "Perhaps we can fix that."

She gazed up at him again and he saw something in her eyes shift. He would have kissed her now, to seal the deal but now wasn't the right time. If he were to kiss her it would ruin everything he and his fellows had set up.

Thankfully the song ended and the moment passed. Whatever Tom had seen in Miss Baudelaire's eyes disappeared and she stepped back, her cheeks ablaze. "_Merci_, _Monsieur _Riddle."

"Tom," he told her and saw the usual exasperated look she gave him appear on her face again. "Now, I must go find my girlfriend. Lestrange," he asked his passing fellow. "Have you seen Samantha?"

"I believe I saw her go out into the Entrance Hall," the other boy said, shrugging. "I can't imagine why."

Tom frowned. "I'll go and find her. Miss Baudelaire," he added with a slight bow in her direction.

She nodded, watching with curiosity as he walked off.

Tom walked through the crowd, keeping his smirk off his face. Everything was going the way it should. He walked through the crowd, seemingly in search of his loving girlfriend.

Entering the Entrance Hall, he froze, shock taking over his features. "Samantha."

The girl looked up from where she was almost trapped in the corner, a sixth-year Slytherin by the name of Durall, hired by Mulciber, staring down at her with lust-filled eyes. If she had tried to get away from him, it wasn't obvious because she still stood there, cheeks flushed. She may have stayed faithful for all Tom knew but it didn't matter. All that mattered was what it looked like. "Tom! Tom – I –"

"I trusted you!" Tom yelled, escalating his voice so that the people just inside the door would hear. "How could you do this?"

"No, Tom!" Samantha finally slipped away from Durall. "It's not what it looks like! Nothing happened! I wasn't –"

"I don't want to hear your excuses. We're through."

"Tom! Tom, wait! Please, I can explain!"

But Tom didn't stay to listen to her. Feigning anger, he stormed up the stairs. The story of Samantha's betrayal would get around soon enough. Mulciber would give Durall his money and Tom, supposedly, and the rest of the school would be 'none the wiser' that this had all been set up.

Tom smirked.

All according to plan.

* * *

**A/N: Lol. Oh the drama! Hope you guys liked this. I'll see you next time.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Hello to new story alert reader: trickstersink; and new favorite story reader: trickstersink.**

* * *

As he had planned, the news of Samantha's betrayal traveled through the castle. By the next morning, everyone knew that poor, poor Tom had loved and was taken advantage of by the cruelest witch. No one seemed to blame Durall. It was all Samantha's fault and it showed in the way people avoided her, in the way people looked at her as she passed, the way she was left to sit alone at the end of the Ravenclaw table.

Meanwhile, others continued to flock to Tom. He received condolences from many of the girls who considered him so special and a lot of guys told him often that 'there are other fish in the sea'.

The only so-called 'fish' Tom was interested in, however, hadn't said a word about it. Miss Baudelaire still sat silently, as if she was pondering but he would see her glance in his direction often.

This continued for a long time, Tom realized, staring down at the freshly fallen snow as he walked as if he were truly and utterly heartbroken. It had been a three weeks and now they were in the middle of November.

He walked through Hogsmeade pretending to be depressed. It was cold and he had forgotten his scarf. Things were certainly moving too slow for his liking.

"Tom!"

He groaned to himself. This wouldn't be the first time Samantha had approached him. He refused to listen to her each time and now it was just becoming annoying. He turned. "Samantha, I don't want to –"

Surprisingly the girl standing behind him was not Samantha. "Miss Baudelaire."

Had she realized it? He asked himself as she approached him, her cheeks flushed with cold, her hair and black scarf billowing in the breeze. Had she realized she had called him by his first name?

She gazed up at him, those bluish-gray eyes soft for once. "I – Are you alright?"

Tom sighed. "I will be. Eventually. I just – I can't believe she would do that to me."

"I am . . . surprised also." Miss Baudelaire looked down. "Also, I apologize. I always assumed zee worst of you. It isn't somezing I do normally. I swear. And I apologize for what Samantha did to you."

"Why?" Tom asked. "You're not at fault."

The girl shrugged. "Is zat not what one does? Apologize for zee mistakes of others?"

Tom chuckled. "I suppose that's what we do, yes. The more I think about it, the more I realize that Samantha may have been with me for popularity sake. She was never dating me, but my status."

Miss Baudelaire nodded. "You shouldn't exile yourself from your friends because of a broken 'eart. I am sure zey are worried about you. My father says 'time 'eals all wounds'."

"Your father is a wise man, just like his daughter. I'm sure he'll be excited to see you home for Christmas."

"I am not going 'ome. Father will be working so I will stay 'ere. Are you going 'ome?"

Back to that hell-hole of an orphanage? Of course not. "No. I'll also be here."

"Minerva and Erik will be gone. Perhaps – perhaps we could spend zee holiday together? It would be a shame to be alone on Christmas."

Tom was sufficiently surprised. Her offer was unexpected at best and he wasn't sure how to respond. For the first time that he could recall, he was caught off-guard. "Er – alright. I would like that."

"Alright." She nodded, turning to leave but she stopped, facing him once more. He watched, shocked as she unwrapped her scarf from around her neck and, leaning on her toes, she wrapped it around his neck. "You'll catch cold."

"Thank you, Miss Baudelaire," he replied kindly.

"Marguerite." With a small smile she left him, probably to go back to her friends.

Tom smirked at her back.

* * *

"You, my fellows, have done magnificently." In front of him, Lestrange, Mulciber, Nott, Rosier, and Avery grinned wickedly. "You have every right to be pleased with yourselves."

Reaching behind, Tom lifted up a long piece of fabric. "You see this? Her scarf. It may not seem like much but considering everything, it is a grand token and it's a beginning."

"So now what?" Rosier asked. "It's obvious that she harbors some feelings for you. Where do we go from here?"

"_You_ are free to go home this Christmas break, friends," Tom told them with a grin. "I will stay here. There is some business I'll need to attend to with Marguerite."

He twisted the scarf in his hands, a smirk on his face. "Check."

* * *

**A/N: So short chapter I know. You guys! I'm having writer's block, sort of. If you have any ideas that you would like to see put in the story let me know! See you guys later!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Hey to new Favorite story readers: HarryPotterExpert000001 and starlessnight777; Thanks for the reviews all. Bubbz, you're great! To Muffin: Their relationship, friendly or foul will have an outcome but I'm not sure how big yet. It won't change much about the books. Tom, as you can still see, is still evil and conniving. On with the Show!**

* * *

Christmas break came soon enough. The train came and students left, eager to begin their holidays. At this rate, Tom and Marguerite would be the only ones left.

Not that he had a problem with that.

When he woke up that Christmas morning, he was surprised to actually find a gift lying at the end of his bed. Picking it up, he found first a piece of parchment attached.

_Tom _

_It isn't much but it's a gift to apologize for my abysmal behavior._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Marguerite_

He tore away the wrapping paper, discovering a green leather wand holster. Turning it over, he found the Slytherin emblem etched into the front. He hadn't been expecting anything at all from anyone, especially not Miss Baudelaire.

He hadn't gotten her anything but he didn't have much money to do so.

When he arrived at breakfast that morning, she was there, sitting at the Ravenclaw table. There were maybe a handful of other students in the room. Thankfully, Samantha and Lockston had gone home as well.

"You didn't have to," Tom said when he sat down across from her.

Marguerite looked up from the _Daily Prophet_. She folded the paper up, setting it down beside her. "I know I didn't 'ave to. I wanted to."

"Yes but I didn't get you anything."

"'aven't you 'eard? Christmas is about giving, not receiving."

"I know that, but –"

"Why are you questioning it?" Marguerite tilted her head. "Do you not like it?"

"No, I mean, yes, I like it. Just – I really hadn't been expecting anything, let alone from you."

"Oh." Then she smiled, bright and endearing. "Well you're welcome regardless."

Tom stared at her, still shocked. He wasn't sure what to think now. He wasn't used to this type of attention, not even from Samantha who was just clingy and annoying.

"What are you doing after breakfast?" Marguerite asked.

"Er, nothing. I haven't planned anything."

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

"Oh. Alright." This was odd. His plan, yes, had been to win over Marguerite but maybe he had been expecting the clingy and annoying attitude that Samantha had had. This was extremely new to him.

The two of them walked the length of the lake after breakfast like they had planned. Snow covered the earth, marred by few footprints, now including theirs. The lake itself was frozen over. The beauty of it all was lost on Tom, who was rather cold even with Marguerite's scarf around his neck again, but Miss Baudelaire seemed to love it.

They were both silent at first but then Miss Baudelaire spoke. "Why did you decide to stay 'ere over the break, Tom?"

Tom debated with himself. In order to completely gain her trust, what all did she know to about him? "My mother passed away when I was born."

"Oh." Marguerite gazed up at him. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry."

Tom shrugged, deciding to play on this sympathy card she had dealt him. "With her gone, it's just me and my father but we don't get along at all."

If she figured they didn't get along, he wouldn't have to worry about her ever wondering where Tom Sr. was; she would never know he was dead. She didn't need to know that tidbit of information.

Marguerite nodded. "My mother also passed away when I was young. My father is always busy. I never see him either."

"Some people don't deserve children." That slipped out. He always thought it. His father was a good-for-nothing Muggle who wanted nothing to do with him when he found out. It didn't matter if he had been tricked with a Love Potion. Tom was his son damn it. That should have been enough. It just proved how worthless Muggles were.

Marguerite, however, frowned. "I don't zink zat's zee case. I zink zat if one is able to 'ave children, it is a wonderful zing. 'owever, zese people must consider whether or not zey actually want zese children. Children are meant to be loved and adored and cared for. A parent must realize zis before zey agree to 'ave zee children. If a parent can not do zis, zen zey should give zee child to someone who can."

Like his mother had possibly? He didn't feel he got any of that, what she was talking about, but what else could he expect from Muggles?

"I suppose you are right." Tom said this only because he wasn't sure quite what else to say. She didn't understand, not really. Her father most likely doted on her.

But instead of saying this, he simply smiled. "So you said you wanted to be a Healer?"

* * *

Things were running fairly smoothly.

He and Marguerite spent much of their time together, talking and playing chess of all games. It was relaxing, their conversations. She wasn't throwing herself at him, though, and the look he had seen in her eyes at the Halloween Ball was no where to be seen.

Now he was on his way to meet said girl for lunch.

"Hey, Riddle!" He turned in the Entrance Hall as Durall came running up the stairs from the dungeons. The younger boy stopped in front of him. "Where is it?"

"Pardon me?" Tom asked.

"My money," Durall answered with a frown. "It's been over a month and I still haven't gotten it. I did my part of the job. I messed with that Ravenclaw bird and you broke up with her. Now I want my money before I let your secret slip – Hey!"

Tom had grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him off away from the entrance to the Great Hall. When they were far enough away, Tom glared at him. "You'd watch your mouth if you knew who you were talking to, spouting stuff out like that in an open area. Besides," Tom gained his composure letting go of his arm, "the person you'll need to discuss that with is Rosier. I've just learned about this little deal you had."

Durall paled. "Oh, Merlin. Merlin, Tom, I'm sorry I didn't –"

"It doesn't matter. Samantha still gave into you and was unfaithful. As for letting _my_ secrets slip, I have none. If I find you spreading rumors like that around school, I'm sure you'll regret it. Now, enjoy your lunch."

The boy nodded, rushing away.

Tom straightened himself and walked into the Great Hall.

Neither had noticed the figure who had heard most, if not all of the conversation before hurrying away.

* * *

**A/N: Any guesses who the figure might be? I think we all know. I hope you liked this chapter. I'll see you next time. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Hello to new story alert reader: kisadaniels; new favorites reader: Blaze Namine! You're great!**

* * *

Marguerite was acting strange.

She still talked to him, still walked with him and spent time with him but – there was something different. He could have read her mind but he didn't dare risk, not after that first time during their duel when she had kicked him out. He was already surprised that she hadn't brought that up. It was possible that she had forgotten but he wouldn't be the one to help her recall it.

For now, however, Tom needed to figure out what was wrong in the present time.

"Marguerite?" he said, looking over to her where she sat in the green armchair of the Heads' Common Room.

"Hmm?" she responded, not looking up from the book she had been skimming.

"Is something the matter?"

Marguerite forced a smile. "Oh nozing at all, Tom, nozing at all. Would you like to play a game of chess?"

"Eh, alright, sure." Tom stood, following her to the chess board they had left set up. The pieces, seeing the two approaching scurried to their positions.

She gestured at him, telling him he could go first. "Wait," she said suddenly. "'ow about we make a little deal?"

"What kind of deal?"

"If you win . . . I'll go out with you. If I win, you never speak to me again. Zat plus twenty gallons."

Tom sat up straight. "What – Marguerite, where is this coming from?"

"Is twenty gallons too much? 'ow about fifteen? Ten? Oh, I know. 'ow much did you pay Durall to get 'im to get Samantha to cheat on you?"

Tom's heart dropped. "Marguerite, what are you –"

"It's still your move."

Tom stared at the girl across the board. She had this cold calmness to her that was indeed impressive. How did she find out? How much did she know? If it was Durall, the young Slytherin could definitely count on being used to create Tom's next Horcrux and that was a promise. He cleared his throat. "Pawn to A-4."

The little piece moved forward. Tom again looked up at Marguerite. "I swear I don't know what you're talking about."

"Pawn to E-5," Marguerite replied. "I find it incredible, really. Well played. I never would 'ave thought you an actor, Tom. I see I was right, 'owever, to 'ave pegged you a liar."

"Rook to A-2. Fine, alright. I knew about it, is that what you want to hear? I've just found out about it though, just like you."

"Bishop to E-7. Are you sure? You sure made quite a scene with Durall in front of zee Great 'All."

So she had overheard them. Damn Durall, that pathetic excuse of a Slytherin. His head would roll for this. "Rook to A-3. The boy wasn't supposed to tell me, I found out. He made a mistake. I wasn't supposed to know that this was all a setup."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do zat? Why set Samantha up like zat? Why break you two apart?"

Sometimes, just like chess, you have to think on your feet, move quickly before your piece is stolen. "My friends didn't trust Samantha. They wanted to test her, to see what she would do and they proved that she was unfaithful."

"Zat is 'orrible! Why not fix it zen? Why not get back with Samantha when you realized what zey had done?"

"Why? She proved them right!"

"She made a mistake! A mistake zat was setup in place for 'er! You can not blame 'er for a mistake!"

"When you truly care about someone, Marguerite, you don't make mistakes like that! In the end, they saved me a lot of heartache and trouble."

Marguerite stared at him, eyes wide. The chess game sat between them, forgotten. "It 'appens, Tom! 'eartbreak, anger, sadness, temptation! They're all apart of life! Emotions aren't just black and white!"

"That doesn't make sense! You either do or you don't, there's no shade of grey when you're supposed to be in a relationship! She cheated on me! I am not to blame for what anyone did!"

She shook her head. "I cannot believe you!"

She slammed her hand down on the table, knocking over the chess pieces, who complained, before she stormed out of the room. Tom sat there stunned for a second or two before he hopped up, following after her.

The girl wasn't too far ahead of him, mumbling to herself in French.

"Why are you so upset?" Tom shouted.

Marguerite spun around, poking her finger into his chest. "You – you –!"

And then she was off again, screaming in French, arms flailing. Her eyes were burning with unshed tears that Tom absolutely couldn't explain. He had honestly never thought she'd be this upset!

He grabbed her arms, forcing her to stand still and face him. "I don't speak French, Marguerite!"

"You don't get it!" she cried, snatching away from him. "It shouldn't matter! Once you found out what your 'friends' did you should 'ave fixed it! Maybe if you actually felt somezing from time to time other zan your own self-serving nature, you would understand zat! It's not zat easy! People feel more zan one zing at one time! It's what makes someone a person, zeir feelings! People can feel love and 'atred at zee same time! Yes it's complicated! Yes it's confusing! And zee fact zat you don't see zat is so – so frustrating!"

"You're the one who's frustrating!" Tom said. "Since you've arrived at this school I have done nothing but try and show you that I was attracted to you! Then when I had a girlfriend, you were angry at me for not giving you any attention! Now, I've broken up with Samantha and you're even angrier! Make up your mind! Why does it concern you? Why does it matter so much if I 'don't get it'? What is the problem?"

Surprisingly, Marguerite stood up on her toes and kissed him. It was hard and quick but passionate all the same with much more than just simple attraction.

She pulled back. "You get it now?"

When he didn't respond, she screamed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. "My God you're clueless! I like you alright? I always 'ave but maybe if you didn't 'ave your 'ead so far up your own ass, you would 'ave saw zat! _Zat_'_s_ why I 'ate you because you automatically assumed zat I should 'ave been with you, assumed zat I should 'ave fallen into your arms zee moment I saw you! You tested me and treated me as if I was nozing more than a game or a prize! 'ow dare you? 'ow dare you treat women like zat? We're not meant to be tested and you continue to do zis as if it's fun and if we're worthless! Just because you don't get it doesn't give you zee right to play with someone's feelings like zat! It's not fair, Tom! And furthermore –"

Tom took her arms, pressing her back against the wall before kissing her like he hadn't kissed any other girl. Her hands clung to the front of his shirt holding him to her.

Tom had kissed other girls, absolutely, but nothing like this. Never before had he kissed or been kissed with so much of – of _everything_. He knew he didn't like her. In fact he almost detested this girl and how infuriating she had turned out to be and yet . . . Merlin, he wanted her. He _had_ to have her.

Maybe that's what she meant.

They broke apart, both breathing hard. Tom lifted his hands to her face, brushing back her hair. "I get it."

"Good," she said and she pulled him back to her with a forwardness that was at the same unacceptable and a turn on.

Finally.

Tom played to win.

And victory was his.

* * *

**A/N: What did you think? Understand, Tom Riddle still doesn't understand love but he understands possession and winning and dominance. See you next time.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

That kiss happened New Years evening. Tom and Marguerite hadn't even heard the clock toll twelve so absorbed as they were. When Marguerite finally recognized the last toll of the bell, she pushed away from Tom, her hands flat on his chest. "It's midnight."

"Your point?" Tom asked, his lips just a hairsbreadth away.

"It's New Years."

"Again I ask your point?"

"We've been standing out 'ere a long time."

"Has any ever told you that you talk to much?" He pressed his lips against hers again for a moment being pushed away again. "Merlin you're frustrating."

"So are you!" Marguerite said, but there was a slight smirk on her face. It fell though suddenly. "You do realize what zis means, don't you?"

"That we finally can have each other all to ourselves?" Tom replied, moving his hand down to her waist and pulling her towards him again, his lips ghosting over hers. "That I finally have all of you?"

"Zat you broke up with your girlfriend nearly a month and a 'alf ago. People are going to zink you left 'er for me."

Which, obviously, he did. "I don't care what people think. Besides, I have always wanted you. Only you. And I have you."

Marguerite bit her lip, leaning up towards him. But then she stopped, an evil smirk on her face. "Do you?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Hmm." That was all she said before she pulled out of his arms, traveling down the hallway.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Tom caught up to her, grabbing her arm but she turned pressing him against the wall this time.

Marguerite trailed her fingertips up her chest, pressing them against his lips. "All I mean is zat perhaps we should keep zis to ourselves for a while, at least until zings calm down."

"You're every bit as conniving and manipulative as you claimed me to be," Tom recalled, grabbing her hand and kissing her palm.

"Not at all. I'm trying to keep zee peace."

"Fine." Tom held up his hands. "Fine we'll do this your way. We'll play it save and 'keep the peace'.

"Good," she said, almost instantly reminding him of not that long ago. He leaned down, catching her mouth with his again before she pushed him away once more. "I'm going to bed."

Pushing away from him completely, she moved in the direction of her Tower, her hips swaying seductively. Tom watched her walk away, a smirk on his face.

"Checkmate."

* * *

His fellows were laughing, enthusiastic.

"How was she then?" Avery asked.

Mulciber hit him upside the back of his head. "Don't be vulgar."

Tom smirked, however. "It's all about patience, my fellows. You can't push these things too fast. Besides, I have the feeling she'll be just as wild then as she is during the day."

They all laughed, excited and fantasizing, Tom presumed.

"So what's next?" Rosier asked. "Now that you've won and all."

"Marguerite seems to think it would be a good idea if we keep it silent for a while," Tom said, "to avoid suspicion. I believe she has a point. Durall almost messed up everything."

"I've already spoken with him," Lestrange informed them all in a cold tone. "He'll be more careful about his loose tongue in the future, I'm sure."

"Very good." Tom smirked. "Well then there's nothing left to do but wait. Things will progress as they progress. I have shown an infinite amount of patience. A little more won't hurt. An the end, however, we have won. Congratulations boys."

A soft cheer went up around the group.

Mission accomplished.

Checkmate.

* * *

**A/N: I know it's short but it's coming swiftly to an end. Last chapter may be in Marguerite's POV for the most part. I hope you liked this story. See you next time.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Story alert readers: Thy Crimson Butterfly; and favorite story readers: Princess Mariana. You are great!**

* * *

Marguerite didn't know what she was thinking.

Maybe she was stupid.

Maybe she had been charmed.

Maybe she was actually truly in love with the guy (which she might truly be).

But still she wasn't thinking right at all.

She still hated the guy. The looks he gave her in the hallway. She really didn't fully trust him and would never forget their duel or that during it, she had felt someone try to push into her private thoughts. She was sure it was him. The whole thing with Samantha also gave her pause and the glint she'd sometimes catch in his eyes when talking about the future.

But Merlin, she would be lying if she said she didn't love the feel of his fingers in her hair during private moments or the feel of his lips against hers or the way he said her name, so soft and treasured. He was brilliant, Tom Riddle and he'd go far. Maybe she'd be by his side when he got there.

True to his word, they kept things private though she was sure he had told his friends from the glances they often sent her way. Marguerite had yet to tell Minerva who she knew would throw a fit.

It wasn't until Easter Break, when a lot of people had gone home again, did they bring their relationship to light. Surprisingly, people weren't surprised, not even Minerva.

"It was bound to happen eventually, the way you two kept on," the stern witch had told her friend. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy for you."

When school was drawing near a close, Tom asked Marguerite if she would like to get a place together. She had agreed because she knew she loved him, despite the fact that he may have been far from trustworthy. He was good to her, really and she couldn't find any prove of him doing wrong.

Tom surprised her though, when he told he was going to be traveling.

"What 'appened to Hogwarts?" she had asked him one evening, her French lilt slipping in and out as it was known to do nowadays. "I thought you were going to teach."

"Dippet wants me to reapply in a few years," Tom had told her with a smile. "He thinks I'm too young."

"Well what about the Ministry? I'm sure zey're looking for someone like you."

"We'll see."

Marguerite crossed her arms over her chest, watching her boyfriend pack. "How long will you be gone?"

"Not long." Tom closed the suitcase, standing up to kiss her. "You'll be busy at St. Mungo's. You'll hardly know I'm gone."

With that he had Apparated, leaving Marguerite alone in their small home. She was feeling suspicious of him again, something she didn't like. She didn't like it all.

* * *

Her suspicion grew when Tom returned little more than a week later and took a job at Borgin and Burkes.

"Have you given up your dreams?" she had yelled at him after a month of him in and out of the house. She was tired and overworked at St. Mungo's and felt as if she was doing everything for them. "_Our _dreams?"

"My dreams are still very much intact, thank you," he told her, not looking at her. He twisted the ring on his finger, the ring she had never really paid attention to during school but realized he was never without it. It was starting to creep her out.

"Is that so?" she asked. "You've done nothing since we've gotten out of school except spend your time at zat damn shop! What were you doing that week after school? Where did you go? And who is Hepzibah Smith?"

Tom had stood then, cornering her. His face was like murder, really, death and rage. "It's none of your concern!"

Marguerite cowered back under his glare. Where was this coming from? Had she pushed him too far?

Tom suddenly stopped, his features easy back into one of easy concern. He wrapped his arms around her. If he noticed she was shivering with fear, he didn't say anything. "I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated with everything. Mrs. Smith is an old woman who does business with me and Mr. Burkes. You have nothing to worry about. You are the only one who belongs to me."

Marguerite gazed up at him. She didn't like the sound of that, not at all, nor did she like the way he was looking at her. It was the same way he looked at his ring.

"I love you Tom," she said softly.

Tom smiled and he kissed her then, intent and purposeful, his hands lifting to tangle in her hair. But it felt different.

It felt wrong.

He never said 'I love you' back.

He moved back to his chair where he had been brooding before to read. She never looked through his books. She wasn't allowed to.

"Tom?" Marguerite said softly.

Tom looked over to her. "Yes?"

It was then she saw his eyes truly. Why hadn't she noticed it before? His dark eyes, the eyes that used to send shivers up his spine in a completely different way, now scared her. They were empty, almost soulless.

She changed her mind then about what she was going to say, smiling over to him. "I'll get dinner started."

He smiled back. "Alright."

Nodding, she moved to the kitchen, keeping her back to him so he couldn't see her cry.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys liked this chapter. Next Chapter is the last! Can't believe this! See you next time.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

_Dear Minerva,_

_I'm frightened, oh so very frightened._

_Tom is changing before my very eyes. He's started to look sickly and pale and _

_Minerva, he's not the same Tom that I fell in love with, not someone I know. He looks at me as if I'm nothing more than a prize and it makes me scared to even have him touch me. _

_I can't tell him. I'm afraid what he'll do if he finds out. I'm afraid what he might now be involved in but whatever it is, it's changing him. His eyes are different, almost empty as if he's not there anymore._

_I was hoping my dear friend, if I could help me get away. I'm glad we never got married because I don't know what I would have done. The secret I carry inside makes me sick every time I look at him. Please, write back soon._

_Thank you,_

_Marguerite._

Marguerite wrote that letter three months after she first noticed that Tom was changing, when she saw his eyes. It had been a week now and still no reply from Minerva. Hopefully she'd get something soon.

Tom was at work, probably chatting up that Mrs. Smith again for her valuables. Marguerite hadn't been feeling well so she had come home early.

Now, she stared at the door that led to the second bedroom in their apartment. Tom had turned it into his personal den but she hadn't ever gone in, afraid of what she might find. She was ready though. If she was going to leave, she needed to know what was going on.

She placed her hand on the doorknob, holding up her wand. "_Alohomora."_

Nothing. Of course Tom wouldn't make it easy. Leaning closer she examined the knob. What looked like a snake was etched into the metal. She always thought it was just Tom's idea of a decoration, but she never truly understood his obsession with snakes. Holding up her wand again, Marguerite aimed at the catch. "_Bombarda_."

The door was struck with the spell, blasting the catch from the door. She'd have to repair that quickly before Tom got home but now the door swung open. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pushed the door open fully, stepping inside.

A bookshelf lined the nearest wall. She rushed to it, running her hand over the spine. "_Lumos._"

She stared at the spines, shocked. All of them. All of the books were books on the Dark Arts, Dangerous Potions, Spells, and Poisons. She lifted her hand to her mouth, turning to a table that lay to her left. Sitting on the table was an old black diary, something she had seen in Tom's possession before. Leaning forward, she picked up the diary.

Marguerite gasped as her head felt like it might split open. Visions she didn't truly understand flashed before her eyes. Quickly, she dropped the diary back on the table, stepping back. As she did so, her wand raised to the wall. Scratched into the paint were words . . . no, names.

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_.

But that name had been scratched off, almost blasted from the wall. Underneath it was another name, though it was more like a phrase.

_I am Lord Voldemort_.

Pieces of parchment littered the floor. Marguerite bent down to pick one up, unfolding it.

_Tom,_

_Your plans are inspiring at best and they make so much sense._

_Ridding the world of Mudbloods and the likes! It's perfect!_

_I've already talked to the others and they agree. You should be getting letters from them very soon. Keep me posted._

_Lestrange_

A tapping startled her out of her thinking. She ran out the room, pointing her wand at the door. "_Reparo_."

The door fixed itself, slamming closed. Marguerite rushed back into the living room, expecting to see Tom walk through the front door . . . but instead, she saw a tawny owl at the window. Her owl, Spalin. Minerva's letter had finally arrived.

Quickly she opened the window, the owl flying in. She took the letter from the owl's leg, unrolling it.

_**Dear Marguerite,**_

_**Are you alright? Your letter couldn't have sounded more frantic! I'm worried about you, Margie and your letters are too few and far between.**_

_**What do you mean he's changed? He hasn't hurt you has he? And I'm surprised you haven't told him yet but if he's as frightening as you claim him now to be, then it might be for the best.**_

_**If you need a place to stay, my dear friend, then my home is always open or, if you're not comfortable with that, we'll figure someplace else out but I would rather you be safe than frightened. **_

_**Come when you need to, dear. Just Apparate to McGonagall Place.**_

_**Love,**_

_**Minerva.**_

"Oh thank Merlin," Marguerite gasped, clutching the letter to her chest. Running to the room she shared with Tom, she waved her wand, her trunk coming out of the closet and clothes flying from the drawers into her trunk, sloppy and unorganized but right then she didn't care. She had to get out of here.

The door to their home opened and closed. "Marguerite!"

Marguerite looked over her shoulder. "_Finite_!" she muttered frantically.

Thankfully, most of her things were packed. She waved her wand, the trunk moving back into the closet and the closet door slamming. She rushed out the door, just as Tom appeared in the hallway. "Hi!" she said breathlessly.

"Hello," he responded, warily. "Are you alright?"

"Yes. Just woke up from a nap. I was about to get dinner started."

"Alright." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss against her lips. She shivered but he didn't say anything, moving past her to the closet to hang up his jacket. "I see Spalin has returned."

"Oh yes." While his back was turned, she stuffed Minerva's letter into her pocket. "I sent him out with zee _Daily Prophet_ subscription. I suppose he was attacked by another bird because zey kept him zere, letting his wing heal and such. Zey apologized for any problems."

"Hmm," was all Tom said. Marguerite nodded, hand over her stomach as she went into the kitchen. She heard him move into his room, the soft whisper he gave before entering into his private den. She hoped that he didn't notice anything.

He came into the living room a moment later as she moved around, getting out ingredients. The whole time she worked, she could feel his soulless eyes on her back. "We're leaving tomorrow," he said suddenly.

"Leaving?" Marguerite asked spinning. "Whatever for?"

"London holds nothing for us anymore," was his reply. "I've gotten all that I've needed. It's time to go."

* * *

That night, Marguerite lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was time to go. She needed to get away from him. Tom was sleeping; his snores echoed lightly through the room.

Marguerite took a deep breath. Gently, she went to move.

Tom's hand landed against her throat. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was still sleep. That hand moved then, resting on her stomach. That sick feeling ran through her again and she fought the urge not to throw up right then and there.

Carefully, she slid out from under his arm, sliding her feet into the sandals she had left by the bed. She wouldn't be changing clothes. Instead she grabbed her sweater from the closet, throwing into over her nightgown and grabbing her wand. Waving it she levitated her trunk, moving it in front of her. On the bed, Tom still slept.

Marguerite carefully moved into the living room, trying not to bump her trunk into the walls. "Spalin," she whispered. The bird twittered from the window.

She opened the door to his cage. "Come on, sweetie, get in your cage."

Spalin flew over, landing on her arm. She gently led him to his cage, happy when he finally hopped in.

"Where are you going?"

Marguerite's heart stopped. She grabbed Spalin's cage, setting it on top of her trunk before she turned to Tom, who was glaring at her. "I'm leaving."

"I can see that," Tom growled. His hand twitched and she looked down to see that his wand was there. "Why?"

"Tom," Marguerite started. "Tom I can't do zis anymore."

"Do what? Be with me anymore?"

"Yes. No." Marguerite sighed. "You're not zee same."

"Of course I am! I'm the same boy from school!"

"No you're not! Tom you've changed into someone or something I don't know! It's clear on your face, in your eyes, in your actions! You've been writing letters to your friends, talking about murdering Muggleborns! This is someone different! This – This Lord Voldemort as you so eloquently scrawled into zee wall. Zee Tom I knew wouldn't do that!"

"Don't you see!" Tom stepped forward, eyes wide and excited. "I am the same Tom you knew! This was me, all throughout school, this was what I wanted. _I _set the Basilisk free. _I _tortured those foul Mudbloods_. I _killed Myrtle."

Marguerite covered her ears. "No!"

"Yes! And you loved me anyway! You wanted to be with me! You supported me!"

"I didn't know!" Tears burned Marguerite's eyes. "If I had known –"

"We'll be fabulous together Marguerite! The world isn't perfect, but we can make it that way. With you by my side, we'll rule the world! We'll rid the world of Mudbloods and Half-breeds together! Can't you see the brilliance of it?"

"No! No I won't do any of zat! I won't have any part of it! You – You're a monster, Tom!"

"I won you fair and square! You are mine to do what I will and you will stay here with me!"

Marguerite glared at him. "I am not a prize and I won't stay!"

"You'll stay even if I have to make you!" Tom pointed his wand. A jet of red headed for her.

"_Protego!_" Marguerite yelled. The spell bounced off, bursting Tom's chair. "_Bombarda!"_

The spell shot at Tom, who tried to dodge was hit in the arm, knocking his wand from his hand and him to the ground. Marguerite approached him stared down at him where he clutched his bleeding limb, groaning. "I'm sorry Tom. I had so many dreams for us but – but zis was not it. You've lost your mind and Merlin knows what you're capable of doing or what you've already done. I've got to go."

Marguerite quickly hurried back to her things. "Goodbye."

"No." Tom got to his knees. "Marguerite, don't go! You are mine!

Marguerite stared at him for a moment. He was so pathetic. All she could do was pity him, really. "I'm sorry. I'm leaving and I'm taking my baby with me."

"Baby?" Tom asked. His face contorted in anger. "You're pregnant! Then you can't leave! That baby is as much mine as you are!"

"No." Marguerite glared at him. "This baby belonged to Tom Riddle. Not Lord Voldemort."

Tom cried out as she Apparated, though it sounded more like an animalistic roar.

Marguerite cried into Minerva's arms that night. She cried for herself and her broken heart. She cried for her child who would grow up fatherless and cried that she was pregnant so soon.

But mostly, she cried for the death of a man she loved and a man she never really truly knew.

A secret she would try to take to her grave.

* * *

**A/N: Oh wow! Well that's the end of that. Do not worry, all, there will be a sequel. I hope you guys liked this! Thanks for reading.**


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